


A Song Shared in Time

by Merfilly



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Age Difference, Attraction, F/M, Mentor/Protégé, Yuletide, Yuletide 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: Menolly knows what she feels, debates it, and chooses a path.
Relationships: Menolly/Robinton (Dragonriders of Pern)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 46
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Song Shared in Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redfive86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redfive86/gifts).

Journeywoman. The girl with the fire-lizards. Harper.

None of it seemed real, not even now, three weeks after walking the tables to Menolly. Her days had all been whirlwinds, with Masters Shonagar and Domick having to grant her time for other lessons. Some of those were in more Harper mechanics, while others were in Pernese geography and politics. It would be necessary to know where the holds and crafts were in relation to one another, more than just her own awareness of the eastern corner of her original worldview. It was also needful to remember how the Bloods and Crafters of each Hold interacted with one another, where they fell in regards to the Weyrs, and the history that had led to this point.

None of that occupied her thoughts this night, though. Tonight, she had been one of the last journeymen to leave the tables, for her Master, the man that had rescued her, Petiron's own son, had graced the hall with a new ballad that night. The tune itself had been rather haunting, set in quiet but plaintive chords. He'd told them before beginning that he'd seen a traditional ballad about courting between two holders from different sides of a mountain, and drawn from that.

The air of mismatched love, kept apart by both distance and age-old enmity between blood lines, had spoken to Menolly on levels that she hardly felt right in contemplating. And yet, she had stayed through the encore, her gaze rarely leaving the sight of her silver-haired benefactor as he gave voice and music alike to them in a priceless gift.

"You mistake gratitude for something more," she whispered to herself, still awake, despite all nine of her friends being soundly asleep all around her. "He is all Pern's man, and has no time for such nonsense."

The words did nothing to soothe her heart, aching for those words that spoke of love to be meant for her.

* * *

In honor of the people come up from the sea hold, Menolly had chosen her songs most carefully, knowing she would be pulled to sing at least once. When Gather came to Fort, all harpers gave a turn, and for her, that meant vocalizing, no matter how displeased Master Shonagar might be with her at times. Like enough, she'd play a set too, with Talmor or Domick himself.

When they all called for her, she was ready, a song that would draw them all in… and her eyes fell upon Robinton, smiling benevolently at her, even as he moved to join her. He reached out, taking her gitar — his, actually, for she'd never given it back to Master Jerint — and leaned in close to her ear.

"My Lady, the Sea?" he murmured, and she nodded mutely, wondering just how he had known the one she would choose to follow up the 'Fire-Lizard Song' for the crowd. That song, she thought she could now do in her sleep, and was able to fall into it easily enough with Robinton supporting her. She dared not look his way, understanding that while Masters sometimes did choose to perform with their journeymen, it was unusual in this case.

He was **the** Master Harper.

Then, though, changing to the more somber tones of the seaholder song, she had to check with him, to be certain they were still on the same notes and beat. He smiled, the glows and moons both catching in the silver of his hair in just that way as to seem impossibly ethereal.

The notes of the song, celebrating the love of a man for either a woman or the sea, for the concepts flowed into one another, came from her with more passion than she'd ever thought to use. She did manage to look back to the audience, making the requisite eye contact with those she sang for, yet in her heart remained the magical sight of her master smiling at her.

* * *

Beauty had grown bored with all the poking at cloth and knotting it together with the strings, which served Menolly well. Her queen's assistance in blocking the sunlight had not been needed, and now only the two Aunties and Uncle were near, sprawled on the flagstones at her feet to soak up the warmth. She continued to stitch, keeping her thread taut, trying to be neat as she could be when this had never been her true skill.

This out of the way courtyard let Menolly work steadily, her head full of tunes that might never be heard by others. These tunes belonged to the same man the tunic did, for Menolly had seen the hole in the much loved sleeping tunic and quietly gathered it up to mend while tidying for her Master in his absence. Unconsciously, she began to hum the song building within her, her eyes intent on the threadwork she had at hand.

That, she decided, was the true reason she missed the Headwoman coming out into the secluded space, she decided.

"Mending is not something typically given out to a journeyman," Silvina said, as Menolly was pulling the stitch tight, before she had poked the fabric again. "And the Harper knows I'd do it for him." The tone was nothing but warm and teasing, but Menolly flushed despite herself. She'd come to know the truth of Camo, and what that meant with this woman.

"I know he loves it well, Headwoman, and thought to have it fixed before he returns," she explained herself.

Silvina carefully avoided the two greens and the blue to take up a space on the wall beside Menolly. "Menolly, you need not make excuses for an act of love." She then focused on the work, and made a pleased noise. "Ahh, you're adding a bit of fabric. Good. Had to do that when I mended the other side."

"That gave me the example," Menolly said, even as her guts twisted on what Silvina had said. Did the woman know? Or did she see it as the same kind of love most of the Hall tendered to the Master Harper?

Silvina smiled at her as she looked Menolly in the eyes. "Mending things of his is a trying skill, Menolly, but well worth it in the long run. Keep that in mind, alongside those tunes of yours." She then shifted for space, and pulled out the current needlework she was working on from her apron, a small piece that needed fine thread and good light.

Menolly watched her a moment, and turned back to her own task, considering the nuance she thought she heard.

* * *

Menolly slipped inside the Harper's room, all too aware of how easy it was to do this with none the wiser. Had Silvina considered that when she assigned that room? No, as Menolly had not even begun to see the truth of her own heart at that point.

Now, with a few years of conviction and growth behind her, she did know that she had, possibly when he swooped in and picked her up to save her feet, given her heart fully to him.

This morning, she had decided to do something for them both, something to learn if it was within them both, or if she had mistaken his glances, the quiet little touches on her hands when she returned from Journeying, the million small tokens of affection in his deeds toward her.

With her mind made up to ignore the age and power differences, she made her way to his sand table. He should return this day, and no one but Silvina was likely to come inside his rooms. That in mind, Menolly laid out the tune of her love, the song that was never shared anywhere but with her fair in her room, always too soft to be heard even if his windows were open. Quickly, knowing she was needed when the sun did rise to help with the choral class, she laid out her love, her wish of more, and then covered that section of the table with the glass.

Her Master would note the change, would investigate. How he answered… would decide the song of their future.

* * *

"Menolly, I wonder if you'd listen to something for me?"

She could not help the frisson of tangled emotions sliding over as if she were a tightly strung gitar.

"Of course, Master," she said, coming to her feet to follow him. That knot of anticipation and impending climax only grew when he indicated they would go to his quarters. Firmly, she shooed her fair to her own apartment, even Beauty who let go of her throat and disappeared in the midst of them turning on the stairs.

She noted Zair was nowhere to me found; he must be among her own already, or out checking on harpers in distant places.

Had he arranged for them to be truly alone?

They entered, and through all her craft knowledge, she kept her eyes from the sand table. When they had eaten breakfast, there had been his travel cases in the way to keep her from seeing if it had been disturbed. Now, if this had any relation to that, she didn't dare draw attention to it.

"Do pour some of that skin for us both, my journeywoman? I'm parched and must not be to sing properly," he said, drawing a smile to her lips as she ducked her head in acquiescence.

As she found two cups and saw to that, he got down the absolutely beautiful harp that he so rarely touched. From Silvina, whom she helped with cleaning the apartment when she was in the Hall and her Master was not, she'd learned it was a gift from long ago, possibly his very first Journey. He kept the wood oiled, the strings in good repair. The tiny dragons worked in and around it reminded her of her fair, but she put that thought aside to settle in her chair, wine at hand, while he settled in his, the harp seeming to quiver in anticipation.

No, that was her own racing emotions, carefully masked with a judicious sip of the Benden red he'd managed to acquire. He set his fingers to the strings…

… and her tune poured out, carefully recrafted for the harp, but oh so recognizable as the gift she'd given him. She listened with all of her being as his voice joined the pure notes of his harp, and she felt her heart begin to beat harder.

Somehow, in the short span of the song she'd given to him, she managed to put an end to her cup of Benden red, and tears had gathered in her eyes. He let the last notes die away, and she realized he'd been watching her the entire time. His reach for his cup let her look away, trying to brush at her eyes. When she looked back, the harp was carefully set aside, and he had leaned forward, making the distance between them so much smaller.

"The song is a question," he said, having cleared his throat and wet his lips with the wine he loved so well. "The answer, however, is not a simple one."

"It could be," she said, boldly, despite her worry over how this could go.

"Appearances — "

"Can be managed," Menolly said to that, before she reached out, touching his hands lightly. "You belong to Pern. Can't I give you just a small piece of yourself back to you, here, where none need see?"

He hesitated, and then turned his hands to take hers in them. "My dear, talented, wonderful journeywoman… what kind of life would that be?"

"One I chose," Menolly answered him, steady and true to the tune of her heart. "Master, I know what I see in myself. And you must see something of it in yourself, to choose to address it now. Grant yourself this small thing, and let us have a tiny measure of time to ourselves."

With a small sigh, and then the slightest upturn of the corner of his mouth, he nodded. "I do wish it, Menolly, so long as you are certain you have weighed it all out."

For an answer, she rose, still letting him hold her hands, and moved into his chair with him. The answer really could be this simple, she decided, as he folded himself around her to pursue the new melody between them.


End file.
